


Charlie and Mac Run Away

by manseekingmonster



Category: It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Platonic(?) Relationship, also warning for references to Uncle Jack-related things, idk man they’re kids, its not really angst there’s just some depressing parts but it turns out okay, nothing explicit or detailed just be aware
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 18:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19773613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manseekingmonster/pseuds/manseekingmonster
Summary: Charlie has a bad night and decides to run away from home. He drags Mac along with him, and the two hop a train out of town.





	Charlie and Mac Run Away

Charlie ached all over. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up like this, curled up on an air mattress on the floor. The sound of his uncle sleeping on another air mattress beside him felt deafening. God, he hated him so much. If he had a knife in his hand right now, he’d stab the motherfucker without thinking twice. Maybe it was weird that he was so young and somehow contemplating murder, but when something like that happens to you, you tend to grow up pretty fast.

He picked his pants up off the floor and put them back on, feeling sick to his stomach over what he knew had happened while they were off. Then he crept as quietly as he could out of the bedroom, careful not to wake the beast still asleep on the floor.

Charlie limped down the hall towards his mother’s room. He tried to stand upright, but everything just hurt so much. Reaching a hand up to his shoulder, he felt a deep ache there, as it was no doubt bruised from being held down on the bedroom carpet or on one of the mattresses. Everything was so confusing and painful, and even though he heard his uncle whisper things like “it’ll be fun, you’ll like it” as he towered over him in the night, Charlie knew that something was very, very wrong with this game he played. It was a game where every time his opponent laughed and smiled the whole time, and every time Charlie cried and woke up feeling hurt in weird ways and weird places. It was a game he always lost, it was a game he didn’t like, but it was a game he was forced to play on a nightly basis.

“Mom?” Charlie whimpered, knocking softly on the door, hoping he could wake his mother but not his uncle. “Mom, it’s Charlie.”

His mother opened the door, her face twisted in anger.

“I know it’s you, honey bear,” she sighed. “Who else would be waking me up at this hour?”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie cried, suddenly breaking out in full sobs. “I just can’t sleep in there anymore, okay?”

“Shh,” his mother commanded. “You’ll wake your uncle.” Normally this would be a threat which terrified Charlie, but he had passed his breaking point. He kept on crying.

“He’s-He’s hurting me,” Charlie sniffled. “It hurts so much, I-I can’t walk right, see?” He took a few steps back and forth down the hall, wincing as he did so.

“Your uncle is hurting you?” his mother asked sceptically.

“Yeah!” Charlie exclaimed. “He takes my pants off and then he hurts me! I think I have a bruise, see?” He rolled up his sleeve in an attempt to show of the bruise he knew was on his shoulder.

“Let me see that,” his mother insisted, kneeling down next to him. She pulled on Charlie’s shirt for a while before stating, “I don’t see anything.”

“It’s dark,” Charlie protested. “Plus, that’s-that’s not even it. I can’t walk!”

“Sweetie, I don’t know how bruises on your shoulders could make you unable to walk.”

“You don’t understand!” Charlie cried. “He takes my pants off and-and he hurts me!”

“Hurts you how, Charlie?”

“I…” Charlie gulped. He realised he didn’t have the words to describe what exactly his uncle had done to him. What’s more, even if he had the words, he felt he wouldn’t have wanted to say them.

“I think you’re just having a nightmare, sweetheart,” his mother assured him. “Just go back to bed, okay?”

“But-but it _hurts!_ ” Charlie shrieked.

“Lord, Charlie, it’s three in the morning! Quiet down!”

Charlie stared up at her, mouth agape, tears flowing freely from his eyes. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to deal with this uncaring.

“I can give you some medicine for your boo-boo,” his mother told him, “but then you have to go back to sleep, okay?”

“With Uncle Jack?” Charlie asked.

“Yes.”

“But-”

“He just plays a little rough sometimes, okay? Now don’t you dare start screaming again, I’ll go get you some band-aids and some Tylenol.”

Charlie was left crouched in the hallway in front of his mother’s bedroom door. It hurt too much to sit down.

“Here,” his mother snapped, offering Charlie two little purple tablets. Charlie let the grape-flavored medicine dissolve in his mouth slowly as his mother stuck band-aids on his shoulders. The medicine tasted like candy. Charlie half suspected that it was, and his mother was just giving it to him to shut him up. Band-aids also did nothing for his bruised shoulders, much less the pain in the lower half of his body.

He stood up and said goodnight to his mother once again, then began the painful walk back to his bedroom.

Except this time, he stopped at the door. Rather than setting foot inside, he turned on his heels and tiptoed unevenly down the stairs. No way he was going back in there. No way in hell. He had to get away, he was going to get away from this place. Without a sound, he pulled himself up onto the kitchen counter and rummaged through his mother’s purse until he found a wallet. It would be cruel to take everything, he figured, so he just took a few bills. Despite still not knowing how to read yet, he knew his numbers just fine, and he recognized the twenties on the corners. He shoved the bills into the pocket of his pajama pants and climbed off the counter. A jolt of pain shot through his body as he landed on the floor just a little to hard, and he spent a few moments curled up in pain on the tile. As soon as the shock left him though, he stood up, slipped on his shoes, and tiptoed out the door.

The streetlights were on, but they were so dim that it barely made a difference. Charlie kept to the side of the road so as to not get hit by cars, but he knew there were criminals and wild dogs and things like that out on the street at night. He quickened his pace out of fear, worsening his pain. _Better than being stabbed or eaten alive_ , he told himself as he ran as quickly as his Velcro shoes could carry him towards Mac’s house. By the time he reached the porch, he was nearly doubled over in pain. Usually this kind of pain passed within a day or so, but in the meantime, it was fucking brutal. He whacked the doorbell aggressively before falling to his knees on the doorstep, praying that it would be his friend who answered the door and not one of his hellish parents.

“Charlie! Charlie, shoot, you don’t look so good.”

Charlie looked up, smiling when he saw Mac standing in the doorway. He wore an old tattered pair of short-sleeve pajamas, grossly unfitting for the late autumn weather. Mac kneeled down in front of Charlie, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Dude, what happened?” he asked. “Are you crying?”

“A little,” Charlie mumbled.

“Him again?”

Charlie nodded. Him. The Nightman, as he called him in front of Mac. Mac knew little about the Nightman, other than that he visited Charlie at night, and every time he came Charlie would be hurt and tearful on the way to school the next day. This was all Charlie was willing to say. “What does he do to you?”, “Where does it hurt?”, and “Who is this guy, anyway?” were all met with stuttered replies of “I don’t want to talk about it”. Mac had learned by now not to ask questions anymore.

“You need a place to stay tonight?” Mac asked.

“No,” Charlie replied. “I’m running away. And I wanna know if you wanna come with me.”

“Woah,” Mac muttered. “That’s… crazy, dude.”

“It’s not crazy. If I stay at your place my mom will find me and take me back there. I need to go far away.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“The train. It’ll go far away, right? We just need to find one we can get on.”

Mac nodded. This did make sense, but it still felt somewhat insane. You don’t just run away like that, do you? Is that even possible?

“I’ll go get some money,” Mac said. “So we can like, buy food and stuff.”

“No, I already took some from my mom’s purse. It’ll be fine.”

“No, really, I know where my dad hides all of his cash. I can get us enough to last… a while. Until we both get jobs working as farmhands or as railroad people or something.”

Charlie smiled.

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed. “And put on some warmer clothes while you’re in there. I don’t think trains have heating.”

“Alright,” Mac said, nodding. He dashed back into the house and emerged a few minutes later in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, carrying a small bag over his shoulder.

“Dude, you got a hobo bag!” Charlie exclaimed.

“It’s just my mom’s old purse,” Mac shrugged. “But sure. Hobo bag. We’re hobos, dude!”

“We sure are,” Charlie said, smiling. He held Mac’s hand as they stepped off the porch and began their trek to the train tracks. It made it a little easier to walk, considering he was able to lean on Mac for support. Maybe it was like a metaphor for something.

The streetlights grew fewer and farther between as the pair got closer to the train tracks. Charlie began to get paranoid, asking Mac if they should maybe stop and rest somewhere until morning.

“No, dude. See, if you’re worried about someone finding you, we gotta get as far away from here as fast as possible.”

“But… I don’t wanna get attacked,” Charlie protested.

“Don’t worry about it, dude. I brought a knife.” Mac pulled a small pocket knife out of his pocket and flicked it open proudly.

“Woah, dude! Why do you have that?”

“My dad didn’t want me to be a pussy.”

Charlie nodded, not entirely sure what that meant. They walked another few meters before Mac spoke up again.

“Wait,” he said softly, squeezing Charlie’s hand tighter. “Are you… are you scared of the Nightman attacking us?”

Charlie thought about it for a moment.

“No,” he decided. “I mean, he’s not gonna find me unless my mom or the police find me first.”

“Hm,” Mac replied. “Okay.”

“I’m more afraid of like, feral dogs and people with guns,” Charlie explained.

“Makes sense,” Mac agreed.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon and turning the sky a dim shade of red when they finally arrived at the train tracks. To their luck, a train was stopped on the tracks.

“You think it’s broken?” Mac asked.

“Nah, look. Smoke’s coming out,” Charlie said, pointing at the engine. “It’s just taking a break is all.”

“How do we get on?”

“We gotta find the boxcar, dude. That’s what hobos do. They sit in the boxcar and they bury themselves in hay while the train goes.”

“Okay,” Mac laughed.

“Come on,” Charlie said excitedly, pulling Mac’s hand in the opposite direction of the engine. “Before it starts moving again!”

It was a surprisingly long stroll to the back of the train, but once they were finally there, they found a boxcar. The car wasn’t full of hay as Charlie had promised, but rather a few crates and some small piles of sawdust. Mac pulled himself up into the wooden bed of the car, and then gave Charlie a lift.

“This is… kinda scary,” Charlie admitted.

“Dude, if someone comes back here, how are we gonna hide?”

Charlie was silent.

“Maybe we ask God?” Mac suggested.

“What?”

“Y’know, they’re always saying in school that if you really need something, you gotta ask God. So let’s do that.”

“I don’t know how. I don’t pay a lot of attention in school.”

“Just… put your hands together like this,” Mac said, clasping his hands in prayer and closing his eyes. Charlie followed suit.

“And now?”

“Uh. Heavenly Father who art in heaven…”

“You sure you got this?” Charlie opened one eye.

Mac nodded aggressively before continuing his prayer.

“So… me and my friend are kind of in a bad place right now. Like, mostly him, I just kind of came with him ‘cause he needed money, and maybe my awesome karate moves. Also ‘cause he’s my best friend and I love him.”

Charlie smiled, blushing hard. He was glad Mac’s eyes were closed. It made him realise just how long it had been since someone had told him they loved him.

“So uh, God, if you’re listening,” Mac continued. “Please help us get somewhere safe on this train, and help Charlie not get hurt by the Nightman anymore. Amen.”

Mac opened his eyes, looking at Charlie for approval.

“That was good,” Charlie said.

“Really?” Mac smiled.

“Yeah. I think He really liked that.”

Just then, the other engine whistled, and the train began chugging violently along the tracks. Mac and Charlie were jolted around, but they didn’t seem to care. Charlie flapped his hands excitedly.

“Dude, this so awesome,” he exclaimed. “We’re like, real hobos. We’re gonna go on an adventure, like in a movie or something.”

“Oh shoot, dude, He heard us!” Mac said excitedly. “He heard us and now the train is gonna take us somewhere. We’re gonna be okay, dude, it’s gonna be okay.”

Charlie smiled, forgetting briefly about the pain coursing through his body. He leaned against one of the crates, shutting his eyes and hugging his knees to his chest for warmth. He regretted his decision not to wear something warmer than his flannel pajamas, as the autumn breeze became infinitely colder when it blew into the boxcar as the train sped down the track. Mac leaned against him, wrapping an arm over his shoulder. That felt much warmer, and very, very safe. Charlie fell asleep against the crate, snoring softly, barely audible over the sound of the train clunking against the track.

The train hissed to a halt once again, and Mac gently shook Charlie to wake him up. Looking out the open doors of the boxcar, the two of them assessed the new location. It looked to be a small town, farther outside of the city than Mac and Charlie’s neighborhood. This was once again not a train station, but rather just a random stretch of track like the one where they had gotten on.

“Think we should get off here?” Charlie asked.

“I dunno. Looks safe enough. Maybe there’s a coffee shop or a store or something around where we can get something to eat.”

“Thank god. I’m so hungry, dude.”

Mac climbed out of the boxcar towards the town, closely followed by Charlie. The ground unexpectedly dropped into a steep hill alongside the train track, which led to a very delirious Charlie rolling all the way down towards the town below. Mac couldn’t hold back a laugh as Charlie sat up at the bottom for the hill, pajamas covered in grass stains, a dumbfounded look on his face. After confirming that he wasn’t injured, Charlie began laughing as well. Mac carefully walked down the hill after him and helped him up.

“You think this place has a store where I could find some new clothes?” Charlie asked.

“Maybe there’s a thrift store around here. Clothes are expensive, dude.”

“I’m cold, Mac.”

“I guess… you should’ve put on warmer clothes before you left?” Mac felt bad saying it. He knew Charlie hadn’t really had a chance to prepare for this, having run off in terror in the middle of the night. “I can give you my hoodie if you want,” he offered.

“Nah, then you’ll be cold. We’ll find something.”

The pair wandered the town for a while, eventually exiting the more residential area and happening upon a sort of town square. They browsed through the various buildings, hoping to find somewhere that sold food or clothes or something. Charlie wasn’t much help, as he couldn’t read a word on the signs, and Mac wasn’t much better. He picked out the word “tax” (not useful), the word “pet” (fun, but currently not useful), and “library” (could be a good place to hide out in and sleep, but not what they needed at the moment.

“I can’t read any of this, dude,” Mac scoffed.

“Me either,” Charlie replied. “Let’s just go into one of these buildings and ask someone if there’s a place we can buy food.”

“Sure. How about the library?” Mac trusted the library a lot more than he trusted the pet store, or the… tax store.

“Cool,” Charlie agreed.

They set foot into the library, feeling very awkward and out of place among the old people sitting in chairs reading and the toddlers being led slowly through the children’s section. Mac approached the desk, at which sat a woman with stereotypical librarian glasses.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, waving his hand up to her eye level to get her attention.

“Yes, young man?” she asked in a grandmotherly voice.

“We’re from out of town, and we’re wondering if there’s like, a grocery store around here?”

“You’re a little young to be out of town by yourselves,” the librarian mused.

“No, no, we’re-”

“We’re hobos!” Charlie exclaimed.

Mac shushed him. They were in a library, after all.

“You’re homeless?”

“No, no,” Mac said, desperately attempting damage control. He stood on his tip-toes and whispered, “We’re just pretending to be hobos. And we need to find a grocery store. In the game.”

“Oh, of course,” the librarian replied, still looking a little skeptical. “If you walk right out the door, take a right on the main road, and just keep walking, you’ll find it.”

“Alright. Thank you very much,” Mac said, smiling. He pulled Charlie out of the library.

“Dude, which way’s right again?” Charlie asked.

“It’s that way,” Mac snapped, pointing down the road to the right. “I can’t believe you told her we’re hobos! You’re gonna blow our cover, dude!”

“I thought she’d feel sorry for us. Cause like, you’re supposed to feel sorry for hobos.”

“What? When have you ever felt sorry for a hobo?”

“I dunno, I haven’t seen very many.”

“Just… let me do the talking next time, okay?”

“Okay.”

They arrived at the supermarket, earning a few odd looks from shoppers. Mac was acutely aware of how weird they both looked, Charlie in his grubby pajamas and him with his mom’s purse slung over his shoulder. He grabbed Charlie’s hand, smiling and nodding to the other shoppers as he lead his friend towards the canned food aisle.

“So what do hobos eat?” Charlie asked. “We need to get stuff we don’t have to cook, since we won’t have a microwave or anything.”

“We can build a fire,” Mac suggested.

“Out of what? Do you know how to chop wood?”

“Okay, fine.”

Charlie grabbed a few cans of beans off the shelf.

“We really should’ve gotten a basket, huh,” Mac said.

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed. “Go get one, I’ll keep picking out beans.”

“Why beans?”

“Hobos eat beans, dude. Don’t you know anything?”

“Fine, okay. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Charlie nodded, continuing to scour the bean shelves as Mac walked off to grab a basket. He couldn’t read the labels on the cans, so he had to look at the pictures to figure out what was good. It was stupid. He didn’t even like beans. But he was so hungry, he had to get as many bean cans as he possibly could.

“Excuse me, young man.”

Charlie turned around. An old man with a graying beard and a plaid shirt towered over him. He stared down at Charlie through thick glasses, and Charlie backed up towards the shelf in fear.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said. “Are you lost?”

“I’m not lost,” Charlie muttered back.

“Is your mom or dad around?”

“No.”

“Is anyone here with you?”

“Yeah. My best friend Mac is here. He was just up by the register getting a basket, I’ll go get him.”

And with that Charlie grabbed as many cans of beans as he could carry and ran as fast as he could towards the registers.

“Charlie!” Mac exclaimed. “I told you to stay by the beans, what’s going on?”

“There’s-there’s a man following me. He’s really tall and scary and-and we have to go. Just help me buy these beans and then we gotta go, okay?”

“Dude, what’s happening?”

“Just do it! Get your money out!” Charlie ran towards the nearest checkout counter and threw the beans onto the belt.

“Did you say there was a man following you?” the cashier asked. Charlie nodded.

“Yeah. Just… please hurry.”

Mac handed Charlie a handful of bills, and Charlie eagerly shoved it at the cashier.

“Do you… want these in a bag?” she asked, holding up one of the bean cans.

“Sure,” Mac replied. He reached out a hand to accept the change from the cashier and then shoved it unceremoniously into the purse.

Charlie grabbed the grocery bag, thanked the cashier, and ran towards the door. Mac followed him, still confused and a little bit scared about the man apparently following Charlie.

“You think he’s still behind us?” Mac asked.

“No,” Charlie replied. “Let’s go back to the library. I… I think it’s safe there. We can eat some of these beans for lunch.”

“You think they’ll let us eat in the library?”

“I don’t care! Let’s just go!”

Charlie walked quickly, beans in hand, back towards the library. Mac wasn’t even sure that they were going the right way until they were back in the town square and Charlie was practically leading him by the hand into the library. The pair rushed past the woman at the desk and into the very back of the children’s section, amongst a pile of unused bean bag chairs that smelled a little too much like urine. They chose to sit on the floor rather than the chairs, and Charlie pulled out two cans of beans, handing one over to Mac.

“Do we have forks?” Mac asked.

“Shoot. I forgot,” Charlie muttered. “Gotta drink them. Like a smoothie.”

“How are we gonna open them without a can opener?”

“Like this.”

Charlie slammed his knuckles into the edge of the can’s lid, denting it slightly. He repeated the process until the lid sunk away from the edge and he was able to push it down into the can. Then he took a swig of the beans, smiling at Mac as juice from the can ran down his chin.

“You’re bleeding,” Mac pointed out.

Charlie looked down at his hand. He had a little cut on his knuckle where he’d slammed it down into the can lid. He shrugged it off and continued to drink the can of beans.

“That’s gross, dude,” Mac grumbled.

“You want me to open yours?” Charlie offered. Mac begrudgingly handed his can to him and watched as Charlie pounded the lid open once again. His knuckles received some more scrapes and bruises in the process but he didn’t seem to mind, simply going back to drinking his beans.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Mac asked.

“I gotta make dinner for myself when my mom is out at night. Beans are easy. And I’m not allowed to use the can opener.”

“Doesn’t your uncle make you dinner when your mom’s out?”

“I… I don’t like his cooking. It always makes me sick.”

“Huh. Weird.”

Mac took a mouthful of beans, nearly gagging. They were cold and slimy and super gross. He was starting to think this was a bad idea.

“I wanna go home,” he muttered.

“Why?”

“Cause these beans are gross.”

“I mean… we could go back to the store and look for something else. I’m sure that guy is gone now.”

“No, I mean… I miss sitting on the couch watching the news with a microwave dinner on my lap. It’s cold in here, and these beans are cold, and I miss being home and warm and… I don’t like hiding out like this.”

“We’re not hiding. No one even knows where to look for us. And you’ll get used to the beans. I did.”

“That’s… that’s weird, dude. You shouldn’t have to get your knuckles all bruised every day just so you can eat cold beans.”

“I’m telling you, we can find some other food at the store.”

“No, I mean, like, at home. Your mom is out doing God knows what, and your uncle’s awful cooking makes you sick, and you have to eat cold beans for dinner because no one cares enough! It’s not fair! It’s stupid, man. I get why you ran away. You deserve better.”

“It’s cool, man. Really. We’re gonna be okay?”

“What if someone finds us? The guy from the store, or the police, or something? I don’t want you to have to go back there. You got out. You shouldn’t have to go back.”

“Mac. Chill out. Eat your beans. It’ll be fine.”

“I wanna go home,” Mac cried. He set down the can of beans and held his head in his hands. “I wanna go home. You can come with me, you can stay at my house, I’ll show you how to use the microwave and we can make microwave diners and-and warm beans. And you don’t have to go home.”

“They’ll find me there.”

“No, they won’t. I can hide you. You’re small enough, you can fit in a cabinet.”

“Mac. No. We’re fine here, okay? Eat your beans.”

Charlie put his hand on Mac’s shoulder. Mac leaned into it, still crying. He picked up the can of beans and held it to his mouth, not willing to take another swallow. His body shuddered with sobs. He could feel the stares of the few remaining library patrons, but that wasn’t enough to stop him. Only Charlie’s hand gently rubbing his back provided any comfort as he stared out the window, wondering how far that train had travelled. Had it been moving all night, or had it only travelled a few minutes before breaking down? Were they just a few miles out of the city, or had they left Pennsylvania entirely?

“I think it’s getting dark,” Mac whispered.

“That would explain why people are leaving the library,” Charlie agreed. “I think it’s closing soon.”

“We gotta hide then! Or they’ll find us and kick us out.”

“We could get under these beanbags.”

“Ew. No. They smell like pee.”

“Do you wanna get found?”

Mac paused. Maybe he did. Maybe if someone found them, they’d have a chance to go home.

“I’m getting under one. You can do whatever you want.”

Charlie shoved the bean cans back into the bag, pushed the bag under one of the beanbags, and shimmied himself underneath another. The smell of urine was overwhelming, but at least it was warmer than the train ride the previous night. Charlie smiled when he heard another bean bag being picked up and Mac shuffling underneath it. They were going to be safe. It was going to be okay.

Charlie was rudely awakened by the bean bag being pulled up off of him and a bright light shining into his face.

“Ugh. Mac, it’s not morning already, is it? I feel like I just went to bed.”

Charlie looked up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He crawled up onto his knees, staring up into the bright light. A woman’s face stared back at him.

“Hello, boys,” the woman said softly, switching off her flashlight. “Do you know what time it is?”

“It’s night,” Charlie replied groggily.

“It’s nearly three in the morning. We’ve been looking for you all night.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ve received multiple reports of two kids in dirty pajamas running around town carrying beans. Would that be you?”

“Uh. That does sound like us,” Mac muttered. He turned to Charlie in shame. Charlie gave him a look of pity. It wasn’t his fault, it was the librarian, or the man in the grocery store, or something.

“I’m a police officer,” the woman told them. “You both are going to come with me, and we’re going to take a ride to the police station, okay?”

“Are we in trouble?” Charlie asked.

“Not to my knowledge. You did buy those beans, didn’t you?”

Mac nodded.

“So why are you taking us away?” Charlie asked.

“Because we want to help you. You are lost, aren’t you?”

“No,” Charlie replied.

“Do you even know what town you’re in?”

Both boys shook their heads.

“Come with me, alright?” the woman insisted. “I can get you some food that isn’t canned beans.”

Mac nodded reluctantly. He stood up and went to follow the policewoman to her car. Charlie remained on the floor.

“Charlie,” Mac said. “Aren’t you gonna come with us?”

“I’ll be okay,” Charlie assured them. “You can go.”

“Charlie,” the policewoman said, kneeling down to meet Charlie’s eyes. “I know you might not think you’re lost, but you do need to get out of the library, okay? And it’s not safe for you to go running around in the streets at night. But if you want to leave in the morning, you can go ahead, okay?”

“Promise?” Charlie asked.

“Of course, buddy. Now let’s go. I bet you’re getting cold in here.”

Charlie has to admit, she was right. The difference between the chill of the unheated library and the warm interior of the cop car was like night and day. He sunk into the warm leather seat, nearly falling asleep in it on the way to the station. Mac had to shake him gently to wake him up once they arrived, and the cold air of the outdoors stung his ears when he stepped out of the car.

The room they were brought to was no doubt an interrogation room, but the policewoman was quick to remind them that they weren’t in trouble, that there was just nowhere else for them to go.

“Well, boys, there’s a McDonald’s around the corner,” she suggested. “I can have someone go pick something up for you, okay?”

“Is it open this early?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah, of course. Just wait here, I’m gonna go tell my coworker to go pick it up.”

She left the interrogation room for a brief moment, and Mac turned to Charlie, his eyes wide with shock.

“Dude. This is insane,” he whispered.

“I know,” Charlie replied. He was still tired, barely comprehending what was happening to him.

“You really think she’s gonna let you go in the morning?” Mac asked.

Charlie laid his head on the table in defeat.

“No.”

“Man, I’m so sorry. I thought we’d be safe in the library, I really did. If I thought they’d look for us there, I would’ve told you.”

“It’s not your fault. Of course they’d look for us. We’re two weird hobo kids running around in our pajamas. Of course people got suspicious.”

“You think they’ll call our parents?”

“Not if we give them fake names.”

“Dude, if we lie to a cop, we’re gonna actually be in trouble.”

“So what? You introduce yourself first. No way they’ll believe your name is Ronald McDonald. Especially not after they’ve just gotten us McDonald’s.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t know. I’m just gonna hope I think of something in the time that they’re getting distracted by your stupid name.”

“Hey. I didn’t name myself.”

“I know. Parents are garbage sometimes, man.”

“I don’t think being named Ronald McDonald and being forced to live with your weird uncle and eat cold beans every night are really similar levels of garbage.”

“I mean… which is worse though?”

“Obviously your thing.”

“Whatever, dude. It’s not a contest.”

The policewoman returned holding two Happy Meal boxes, and handed one to each of the two boys. Both of them opened the boxes excitedly, realising it was the first hot meal they’d had in twenty-four hours.

“So,” the policewoman said. “You two wanna tell me your names?”

“Uh. I’m Ronald. McDonald. My name is Ronald McDonald,” Mac muttered.

“You are aware that it’s a crime to lie to a police officer.”

“I wish I was lying.”

“He’s not lying,” Charlie interjected. “I call him Mac for short. And also because it’s a better name than Ronald McDonald.”

“I mean, I suppose I’d hate my parents too if they’d named me Ronald McDonald,” the policewoman mused.

“What do you mean?” Mac asked.

“You ran away from home, didn’t you?”

“I mean, yeah,” Charlie replied. “But it wasn’t his idea. I wanted to leave, cause… I… I just did. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“What’s your last name, Charlie?” the woman asked.

“Why do you need our names?” Charlie shot back.

“So I can see if anyone has reported either of you missing, and so I can find your families and let them know you’re safe.”

“I don’t want them to find me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to go home.”

“Mr. Mac…” the officer said gently. “Can you leave the room a moment? I need to talk to your friend alone.”

“Why?” Mac asked through a mouthful of chicken nugget.

“Because I’d like to ask him some… confidential questions.”

This made Charlie start to sweat, and it made Mac even more suspicious.

“Don’t worry,” the officer said with a smile. “Top secret police business.”

Charlie grinned at that. It did sound appealing, even though he knew it was a trick.

“Fine,” Mac agreed, standing up and walking toward the door. The officer unlocked it for him, and he stood outside, peering through the tiny window in the door at Charlie. Charlie still looked scared, and Mac felt bad for him, but there was nothing he could do.

“So, Charlie,” the officer said. “Is there any particular reason why you ran away?”

“I told you,” Charlie muttered, twirling an unopened ketchup packet in his hand. “I don’t know.”

“I won’t tell anyone about anything you say in here, okay? It’s confidential. Top-secret.”

“I’m not hiding anything. I just don’t know how to explain it.”

“Explain what?”

“Why I ran away.”

“Charlie, who do you live at home with?”

“My mom. And my Uncle Jack.”

“Do you have a dad anywhere?”

“No.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“What? No, he’s not dead. I just don’t have a dad.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I just don’t. My mom told me about it. Some people have a mom and a dad, but some people don’t. Some people just have a mom. Like me.”

“Okay,” the policewoman said softly.

“It’s not weird,” Charlie told her. “My mom’s a good mom. I don’t need a dad.”

“Charlie, do you feel safe at home?” the officer asked him suddenly.

“What?” Charlie said, confused.

“Is anyone at home hurting you?”

“No, of course not!”

“Are you afraid of someone at home hurting you?”

“No?”

“Has anyone at home ever done anything that made you feel scared?”

“What do you mean?”

“Has your mom or your uncle ever… done something to you that made you uncomfortable?”

“Uh. Maybe?”

“What does ‘maybe’ mean?”

“It means maybe. I don’t know.”

“Charlie, I need to know that if I send you home to your mom and your uncle, you’re going to be safe. Do you think you can promise me that?”

“I’m not going home,” Charlie argued, crossing his arms.

“Okay,” the woman agreed, “but let’s say you did. Do you think you’d be safe?”

“What do you think?”

“Charlie, I don’t know,” the woman sighed. “I’m asking you because if anyone does know, it’s you.”

“Okay. I mean… I think so.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

And then Charlie started crying.

He couldn’t explain it, he couldn’t get a word in through the sobs, but he knew that he’d lied. He had lied to a police officer, and it was a crime. But he knew they’d never think it was his fault if he ended up going home and not being safe. They’d just think that he had no way of knowing, they wouldn’t know about all the things that had happened before. All they’d know was what they found, whether it was Charlie in a similar state to the one he’d been in when he’d run off or whether it was Charlie’s mangled corpse.

Charlie clasped his hands together, remembering Mac’s prayed on the train. Maybe there was something to it. He tried a prayer of his own, silently wishing that his lie would turn true.

_Please, God, let me be safe. Let me be safe when I get home. And please, God, let him be gone. Take him away and never let him near me again._

“Charlie, what’s wrong?”

Charlie looked up, his vision blurred from tears. Mac had been let back into the room, and the policewoman was looking at him pityingly.

“I wanna go home,” Charlie muttered.

“You need to tell me your name then.”

“Charlie Kelly. My mom’s name is Bonnie, Bonnie Kelly, we live in South Philadelphia, by the train tracks. That’s how I got away. We took the train. It was stopped on the tracks and we jumped in one of the cars.”

“You’re from South Philly?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s good. Your mom won’t have far to drive to come get you.”

“Really?”

“That train you took is broken. It’s been stopped on those tracks since late last night. It stopped in South Philly for a few minutes before it started again and then finally ended up here. You boys got lucky. You could’ve been halfway to Washington by now.”

“No way.”

“That’s why you don’t hop trains,” the policewoman laughed. “You two come with me, help me call your moms. If you don’t have their phone numbers I can find them, but it’ll be easier if you can tell me.”

The officer found two empty office chairs for Mac and Charlie to sit in while she called their parents. Charlie briefly amused himself by spinning around in the chair, but he soon grew tired again both from the crying and the lack of sleep. Mac watched him flop over the arm of the chair, completely asleep. It was kind of cute, he had to admit.

Their mothers arrived an hour or so later. Charlie’s mother was in tears and practically strangling Charlie in her arms. Mac’s mother gave him a disapproving look before leading him to her car. Mac waved goodbye to Charlie, promising to see him soon. Charlie wasn’t so sure. His mom would probably ground him for life for running away from home.

Charlie had to listen to his mother cry for about half of the drive home. He couldn’t even get a word in to ask if he was in trouble until he had already begun recognizing the landmarks of South Philly.

“So… am I in trouble?” he asked as they passed by the doctor’s office where Charlie remembered going on his last birthday.

“No, baby, you’re not in trouble,” his mother blubbered. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I took your money,” Charlie said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the wad of cash. “I’m sorry.” He set the money on the console of the car. His mother barely noticed.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she said. “It was very responsible of you to take money if you were going away. And it was very nice of you to give it back.”

“Why aren’t you mad?” Charlie practically shouted. “Why aren’t you punishing me? I stole and I ran away from home and every other parent would’ve killed me by now. What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, honey. It’s just, with you disappearing, and your uncle moving out, it’s been a rough couple of days. I don’t have the heart to punish you, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Wait. Uncle Jack is leaving?”

“Oh, yes. He just got a big offer from a law firm, he’s going to make a lot of money from it.”

“That’s… good.”

“I’m going to miss him, Charlie! He’s my brother!”

“Yeah, I’ll… I’m gonna miss him too, mom.”

Charlie stared out the window in disbelief the rest of the way home. His and Mac’s prayers had worked. The Nightman was gone. He couldn’t hurt Charlie anymore. Maybe, maybe God was real after all. Maybe Charlie would have to pay more attention in church next Sunday.

Or maybe he was just lucky, like with the broken-down train. Maybe the most important part of Sunday school was still the cheese and crackers they handed out afterwards. All Charlie knew was that he didn’t feel like running away anymore, and he knew that that felt really good.


End file.
